Believer
by Wolvertique
Summary: Written in response to a challenge to write a non-standard X-men male-female romance. MystiquePyro.


Sometimes I wonder how I got to this place, my beloved gently breathing next to me, our child sleeping next door, and Uncle Kurt enthusiastically babysitting.

Then I remember back about five years ago, when I was still the leader of the new Brotherhood of Evil Mutants.

The usual bickering between Dominic and Frederick over who should get the most credit for our last job suddenly grated on my raw nerves more than usual. I spat out, "I have had it. I am leaving."

I got up from the table and walked into my bedroom, where I started placing things into a suitcase. Extra gun, ammo, hair and toothbrush travel kit, two changes of clothing, and then he spoke to me.

"Not really going, are you, Misty?"

I turned. It was St. John. I had expected Dominic would be the one following me. His bright blue eyes flashed from my suitcase to me and he parted his lips to give me his most charming smile. His blond hair was draped rakishly over his left eye and he posed a little. Peacock.

"I am leaving." I continued packing after I filled the first case. Backup guns, ammo, makeup, two more changes of clothing, extra pair of shoes, all packed away while Pyro stared at me.

"Where ya going? Crikey, Misty, this isn't like you, abandoning your people this way."

I hung my head a little, then pulled it up defiantly. Who was St. John to dictate to Mystique?

"How would you know what is or is not like me, St. John? I am a criminal."

He sat, toying with a lighter, looking up at me with an amazingly intense expression. "You're a good woman, Misty. I think I know that better than you do."

I paused. I had not expected him to say anything of the sort. My breath caught in my throat and though I found his belief overly naive and utterly mistaken, I could not find the words to correct him.

I instead fastened my two suitcases. His soft, persistent voice came closer to me. "So, where are we going?"

"We?" I nearly dropped my things. "What do you mean, we? I am going away."

"Right. And I'm going with you, mate. Best times of my life have been with you. And the rest, of course." He ducked his head and then gave me a mischievous smile. " 'Sides, I know the perfect place for a vacation. Dare you to let me take you there."

I do not know what weakness possessed me, what madness consumed me, but I allowed St. John to decide that we were going to Thailand. He owned a small house there, in some untouched wilderness, and it would be cheaper than staying anywhere else. He also spoke Thai, which I did not, so it would be a perfect vacation. No one could disturb me if I could not understand them.

I made my farewells and then flew with him there. It took us about three days to reach his home. It was a stunning creation, lovely and open, a wood edifice with large windows to let in the light. He made us some tea while I put my things away in the bright bedroom.

He handed me a cup and relaxed with one himself on the white couch. I took a wicker chair and perched on it. St. John had surprised me with his competence these past several days. He knew the area, he knew the people, and he was nearly a native speaker when it came to the language. "How long has it been since you were last here, St. John?"

He shrugged. "A little while. No matter, really. What's a few days' travel when you've got good company?"

He was making me uncomfortable again. I could not fight him when he said such things about me, but it made my stomach twist when he did. I cleared my throat and took a gentle sip of tea. "I doubt most would find me good company."

"They would if they tried. Just take a look at Rogue. That girl couldn't have turned out half the fantastic lady she is without you, Misty." His eyes shone in the late afternoon sunlight flowing in the windows to our left.

It was then that I realized my heart was warming to him. Oh, there were many other good moments, ones I cherish. Watching our first sunset together, when he held me as I wept for Rogue and Kurt. The amazing proposal he wrote me, describing me as the Queen of the Night (and himself as a Prince of Fools, which I had to admit was a more than adequate description). The way he pushed me into finally trying to reconcile with my son and daughter.

But it was then, showing his belief in me, that I knew I was risking love again. That was when I chose to let it happen. A simple thing. The only thing that matters. My love, St. John.


End file.
